THE AFTERMATH | RON WEASLEY [BOOK FOUR]

6. POTIONS

On Thursday morning, as Gene sat with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lorelai at breakfast, she had received two letters. One from Aurelia, and another from Dumbledore, delivered by a terribly winded Gryffindor, Jack Sloper.

Dear Gene,

I would like to meet you this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at eight p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first week back at school.

Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore

P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.

Gene didn't question it, rolling the parchment back up and tucking it into her robes, trying to ignore the fact that there was no letter from Sirius. The thought of having to get used to that realisation, was a thought that Gene didn't want at all.

To distract herself, she began to tune into Harry and Ron's conversation with Hermione and Lorelai about Quidditch, though Gene didn't believe that either of them really cared.

"Trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied." Harry sounded nervous, "I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden."

"Oh, come on, Harry," Hermione scoffed, glancing at Lorelai. "You can't be that clueless."

"It's not Quidditch that's popular. It's you." Lorelai smiled, looking to Gene now.

Harry and Ron's brows furrowed in confusion, following their gaze to look at Gene who began to slowly nod in agreement.

"It makes sense. You've never been more interesting and, frankly, you've never been more fanciable." Gene said nonchalantly, at which Ron began to choke on a piece of sausage.

"You're quite handsome, you know." Lorelai nodded. Harry's cheeks only flushed a bright red.

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer, either," Gene added, giving him a once over before a nod of approval.

"I'm tall." Ron said, but it seemed as though Gene hadn't heard.

*

Gene was usually great with time-keeping. That was one trait that she didn't inherit from her father. She was sure that it came from Cordelia. So, when Saturday came around, she knew that she was meant to have a meeting with Dumbledore in the evening.

In fact, she had ingrained it in her mind the entire day as she did her coursework and homework, on top of the research that McGonagall had assigned her for their Transfiguration lessons.

But, as the workload only seemed to grow and the sky only seemed to get darker in the library by ten to eight, Gene was something that no Fiordalis ever was– she was late.

A nightmare of being scolded by Cordelia had woken her up suddenly, gasping for breath as she peeled her cheek from a sheet of parchment and finding that she had accidentally made the ink bleed from drooling over it.

Gene glanced at the large clock and shot up from her seat, eyes wide as she quickly scrambled to gather her belongings and run to Dumbledore's office.

"Wait– um–" she tried to remember the password, still half-asleep before, "Acid pops!" she exclaimed, and the gargoyle went aside, the stone wall parting to reveal a spiral staircase.

Gene wheezed as she clambered up the steps as quickly as she could manage, finally knocking at the door to his office, and waited for it to open slowly. She limped inside, her hand over her left side to soothe a stitch as Dumbledore watched her enter with a raised eyebrow.

"Dare I ask?" he said, sat at his desk, and with Harry nowhere to be seen. She was really late.

"I'm sorry I'm late, sir." Gene swallowed hard, her throat hoarse. "I fell asleep in the library." she breathed a heavy sigh, heading over to pull an empty chair closer, to sit beside him.